


The Prince of Song [Discontinued]

by yalina (rqyh)



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: A Historically Inaccurate Historical AU, Also Younghyun is a prostitute, And a musician, And plot twists galore, And someone who does odd jobs, And there are literal trolls, Angst, Barbie and the Diamond Castle AU, But he tries his best to help anyway he can, Childhood Friends to Idiots to Lovers, Dowoon is the trophy husband, Fluff, For example: they take baths, Gen, He speaks in mumbles but he's not mute, I don't know why I made him like that it just fit for some reason, Jae is Melody spoiler alert lololol, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quests and Prophecies, Slow Burn, Sungjin Jae and Wonpil are again a trio, That's really just how he speaks, The only reason why this fic exists, There are Trolls, You read that right I said what I said, and had a mf brainwave, as they usually are in my Briwoon fics, but we only see Jae in the beginning, i dont care tho this story is actually quite fun, is because I rewatched the damned Barbie movie, join me in briwoonweek y’all, the more i read the summary the more it reads as crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqyh/pseuds/yalina
Summary: A pair of travellers wind up in an unexpected adventure when they find a magical musician trapped inside a mirror. He tells them of a tale of a Prince of Song and of a villain who sets to destroy humanity. With Instruments of Music to aid them on their quest, they set off for the Diamond Castle to save the world. But what they don't know is that evil lurks in places they may trust the most...ORLiana is Younghyun, Alexa is also Younghyun, Dowoon is Dowoon, Jae is Melody, Sungjin is [redacted for spoilers], Wonpil is [redacted for spoilers] and somehow also [redacted for spoilers], Briwoon are idiots, Jaesungpil are pining, Dowoon doesn't speak?? Though he definitely can. Younghyun is the hyung who thinks that Dowoon deserves someone better than him, and Dowoon is the dongsaeng who completely disagrees.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Yoon Dowoon, Park Sungjin & Park Jaehyung & Kim Wonpil, das ryt "&" not "/"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Briwoon Week 2020





	The Prince of Song [Discontinued]

**Author's Note:**

> As of 12/22/2020, this story has been discontinued. Original pseud was raikaya (rqyh).
> 
>  _Original Text:_  
>  please dont hate me for making a new briwoon au please dont hate me for making a new briwoon au please dont-

The Crowded Tavern is a public inn located at the heart of Cross Road Town, where travellers and merchants frequently pass by during their travels. Because of its location as the intersection of all four regions of the nation, it's imbued with countless stories, intertwining cultures, and a constancy of visitors--in contrast to its low native population. 

The Crowded Tavern, in particular, is Cross Road Town's most popular establishment, with visitors coming from all over to take a sip of its famous beer and wine. But what sets The Crowded Tavern apart is the stage that's set up inside it, home to the most famous acts in the country. Attracted by the crowd, it is where big names hold their performances and where local musicians try to make a name for themselves. Whether renowned or just starting out, The Crowded Tavern guarantees that each act is worth the money, worth the _time_ , 

And worth the wait. 

Though the travelers seated among the tables in this very moment are certainly losing their patience. 

"We've been waiting for an hour now! I'm tired of ordering seconds!" 

The crowd has grown rowdy, loudly complaining in large gestures, loud voices, and a couple stamping of the hooves here and there. The Crowded Tavern is only made of wood and nails, from the walls to the ceiling to the floor. It would only be a matter of time before the protests end up breaking the establishment apart. There's a bar area, an inner kitchen, and the dining area crowded to the point where the redolence of food and body odor have started to mix and mingle. In the corner there's a staircase leading up to the rooms above, and right next to it is the stage--empty, except for a couple of wooden chairs. 

"Didn't you tell us that tonight's act is your best one yet?" A man from the crowd--a gruffian-looking one, with porous skin, bushy eyebrows and a dark beard--goes over to the bar counter to _bang!_ a hand against the wood. "There aren't any signs posted outside, so I assumed it was another one of your up-and-coming acts. But it's almost sundown now, and I haven't seen any sign of 'em coming. Are you making a fool out of me?" 

There's an aging man, around his late-forties, standing behind the bar counter and acting as the recipient of this gruffian's rage. With hair already starting to gray, he merely keeps his eyes down and nonchalant as he continues to wipe down a wet glass with a clean cloth. 

"I don’t believe so," he says in a low tone, voice deep but calm. “Why do you think that?”

"I'll tell ya why!" The gruffian bangs his fist again. "I've been here for an hour already, and I've already had three helpings of your damned food. We can't frolic about the place unless we've got grub on our plates, so that means we have to keep orderin' if we wanna stay. You know where that leads us?" 

The gruffian directs an imposing finger to point towards the bartender, glaring at him with drunken eyes. 

"You've fooled us into thinking that there's gonna be this great act tonight, but all you really want is our damn money." _Bang!_ "Give me back my silver!" 

The other customers who were listening in start yelling in agreement, and in protest, demanding the bartender to give them back their money. Some have already left. Others are taking it out on their comrades. 

The bartender sets the glass down with a _clack_. 

When he glances up, his eyes seem pitch black. 

“Whether you think our service is unsatisfactory is something I cannot control, and if by the end of the night you still want a refund, then feel free to request so.” The bartender’s voice is so low to the point that people have to strain to hear what he says. “But do not think that we are making a fool out of you. The moment they arrive, perhaps you will change your mind.”

“Don’t think you can keep this up any longer!” The gruffian bangs his fist again. “We’ve already seen through you, old man! Or do you want me to climb over there and get the money myself--”

 _Strum_. 

Everyone stops and turns around to direct their eyes on the stage, stunned at the single string chord resonating throughout the tavern. 

The bartender glances up, then picks up another glass and wipes it, a small smile on his face. 

There's a pair standing before them on the stage, of equal height, each carrying a wooden lute, and looking out into the crowd. One stands upright, hair brown and neat and parted to the side, a bright smile displayed on his face. The other stands with shoulders slouched, his eyes cast down, hair black and shaped like a bush. 

The one who played that chilling strum was the man whose gaze was like the stars staring down at the people before him. Bright. Shining. Whose smile reached his eyes. Standing like the sun in the sky. 

He opens his mouth, and a spell is cast over the crowd.

_I_ _found a thousand years of living short-lived_

_And found a thousand reasons to fade away_

_But there's a hand held upon my heart_

_And it beckons me to stay_

It’s as if all that anger from before, all that fire and all that unbridled rage, had suddenly been washed down by the water of that man's voice. Blown away by the wind of that man's smile. Touched by the kindness of that man's gaze. Telling them there's no need to be troubled any longer. 

And that gruffian, who had been the harbinger of that rage, finds himself staring up at that pair up front. Stunned, bewildered. Astonished, pacified. Ultimately watered down, verdure coming back to life.

"Your total was fifty copper, was it not?" the bartender behind him recalls, now wiping his hands after finishing his work. "If you still want it refunded…" 

"No need, no need," the gruffian dismisses with a few waves of the hand. He continues listening, eyes closed as if reminiscing. "Fifty copper isn't nearly enough to pay for this sort of thing." 

_And so I held it in my own_

_And made a promise to never let go_

_For a thousand years without you_

_Is a thousand I refuse to know_

_I'd choose you over and over_

_A thousand times a day_

_For there are a thousand different reasons_

_A thousand different ways_

_To stay_

A couple of plates are set down onto the bar counter with a _clack._

"You're lucky I'm not cutting down on your paycheck," the bartender says, pulling his hands back to wipe them on his apron. "If you had arrived just a minute later, The Tavern would've fallen apart--all that noise and shaking from the crowd. Someone even threatened to climb over the bar counter to get his money." 

The man with brown hair and glistening eyes flashed a toothy grin. 

"We got held up," Younghyun says, getting a fork and shrugging at the bartender. "Dowoon-ah couldn't find his lute." 

The both of them currently sit at the bar counter with their instruments standing at the side, in their lonesome save for the bartender and a cat. The brown-haired man is called Kang Younghyun, the older of the two and easily distinguished through his fox eyes and bunny smile. The black-haired one is called Yoon Dowoon, silent, resigned, and currently focused on playing with the roast beef and mashed potatoes placed in front of him, served in heaps. 

Younghyun continues, “We kept searching all over the room and almost ended up turning the whole place upside-down, but it turned out that one of your attendants came in and took it away. She saw that there was a broken string.” He takes a spoonful of potatoes in his mouth and swallows. “It was a kind gesture, but it freaked my companion out for a good hour.”

Dowoon mumbles under his breath, and Younghyun snorts, turning to him. 

"And we ended up late because of it," he says, going over to pinch his nose. "I already told you you don’t need to accompany me, remember? Don’t burden yourself.”

Dowoon is around two years younger than Younghyun, aged nineteen years old, turning twenty in August. Though on his own he exudes the energy of a fifty-year-old man. When paired with the older, however, his age comes out in its true colors--maybe even decreasing, with how Younghyun acts so much like an older brother. It's as if he's seven years older than him, coddling him like he's still a child. If their looks weren't so different, people would assume they were really brothers. 

Dowoon mumbles something again, and Younghyun pinches his cheek this time. 

"You don’t have to pressure yourself over something like that," he says. "You’ve only been learning for a year." 

In truth, when they had performed a while earlier, the entire crowd was so enamored to the point of falling in love. But that love was directed towards Younghyun and Younghyun only--Dowoon had practically no stage presence. When people whispered and gathered and gushed about the performance, they would say things like, "That fox-eyed boy was absolutely amazing, but what was that black-haired boy doing? Did he even sing?" "His skill on the lute is rather basic compared to that brown-haired boy. I wonder why he even keeps him in the group; he's better off solo." 

As Younghyun has said, it’s only been a year since Dowoon started learning, and he was so slow on the uptake that it was only in recent days that he was finally able to get the basics right and play an actual song. But even though he only knew a few basic chords, he’s been persistently pestering the older to let him play alongside him and won’t let him go on stage without him. Even a lost lute guitar wasn’t enough to compel him to let go of the reins.

“It’s my job to protect you, and my job to take care of you,” Younghyun tells him. He thumps at his chest with a fist two times and grins. “I’m your reliable brother--I can do anything.”

Yet Dowoon says nothing to that and merely places a helping of beef onto Younghyun's plate. Younghyun then proceeds to return that helping of beef and even adds a wad of mashed potatoes to boot. Dowoon then forcefully shoves twice the amount of either into his mouth. 

“It seems you two have been travelling together for a long time,” the bartender suddenly comments, as Younghyun chokes on Dowoon’s spoon. “You two are new faces to the town, so I was a bit skeptical when you offered to become tonight’s act. But that single song you sampled us was enough to convince me that you’ve been doing this a while.”

"Eight years and counting--anything to survive another day," Younghyun replies in the middle of coughs. Dowoon the Perpetrator silently rubs down his back. "An orphan and an orphan--it isn't easy working under those conditions. Performances, odd jobs… other jobs. This food you've given us is already more than we can ask for. Yet there's still the due pay." 

They’ve been together for as long as they can remember, one orphaned, the other abandoned, both of them connected by suffering. They’re attached to each other, dependent on another, and neither can imagine living life without the other by their side.

"Well, you've added another star to our Tavern's reputation, so I should be the one grateful to you," the bartender says, going over to stroke the bar cat, its brown and white furs getting stuck to his shirt. “Eat your fill. There’s lots of seconds. And tomorrow, breakfast’s on the house. If you decide to stay in Cross Road Town…”

“Never for more than two weeks.” Younghyun smiles at him. “We’re always on the go. There’s always new places to explore.”

"Such is the curse and blessing of a traveller." The bartender shakes his head at him. "Then, I hope for you to always be safe in your travels.”

“The blessings of a stranger always come true.” Younghyun grins. “Thank you.”

The bartender nods acknowledgingly then moves over to one of the customers currently making a racket about the flavor of the wine. Meanwhile, Younghyun continues to eat his fill, silently keeping watch over Dowoon who's eating slowly. 

The boy has never been a heavy eater, always eating in small bites as if every morsel sends a bubble of pain boiling in his stomach. It always made Younghyun worried, if that was a symptom for an illness that had developed under his nose. But they couldn't afford a doctor, so he could only hope it wasn't, and make sure that he had enough on his plate. Yet Dowoon often insisted that Younghyun have more, even when what was left on his plate was considerably less. 

Younghyun ruffles Dowoon's hair, and the latter glances up at him, silently swallowing down half a spoonful. 

"Two hundred copper coins." Younghyun grins at him. "We did well today, huh." 

Dowoon just gives him a ghost of a smile--a weak, lingering ghost, who was so transparent only Younghyun could see it--and places another helping of potatoes on his plate. This time, Younghyun doesn't protest, because when Dowoon holds onto something he never ever lets go, and so receives it with a smile on his face, going over to pinch Dowoon's ear fondly. 

"You were really good on stage today. Mind if I sit down?" 

Younghyun turns to his right to see a maiden with curly black hair wearing a violet-brown dress with a high collar and mutton sleeves. He instantly flashes a radiant, eye-catching smile and shifts his attention onto her, fixing his stature to one of a gentleman. 

"Not at all, not at all,” he says. “Might I ask what your name is?"

"Oh, I'm just a humble young lady from one of the families living in Cross Road Town," she says with a honeyed voice, batting her long lashes and smiling with pink lips. "Compared to others, I’ve nothing to tell. Though I sure would love to hear more about _you_." 

She drags a finger to create a trail up Younghyun's wrist, just light enough to not make scratches, but light enough to keep it lingering. 

Younghyun follows that finger with his eyes meaningfully, then glances up at the young lady with a malevolent look to his gaze.

"Unfortunately, miss, any interesting information about _me--_ " he smiles knowingly-- "comes for a price." 

The gears in that young lady's mind turn and halt with a _click_ , and understanding dawns upon her raised eyebrow. 

"My, my, my," she says in an affected manner, the blush on her cheeks reddening. She fans herself. "Who would've thought…" 

Younghyun just keeps that smile on his face directed towards her. 

"If you prefer not to know…" 

" _No_." The woman rather boldly grabs onto his arm, revealing in a split moment a vulnerable desperation. "I want to know-- _let_ me know. Every single thing." 

Younghyun's grin could've been counted as menacing. 

"Good." He leans in close and holds her chin underneath his two fingers. 

"I have so much to tell." 

Dowoon's finished his food by the time Younghyun's left with that woman to go up the stairs, his plate completely empty now, save for the spoon, knife, and fork. His eyes move over to the plate next to his and gazes upon its half-eaten state. He calls upon the attention of the bartender and asks him to bring it up to their room after an hour. He doesn't explain why, but the bartender doesn't question him either, and he walks out of The Tavern with a bag of twenty copper in his pockets. Immediately, he's faced with a bustling town full of on-goers and carriages mingling in the streets. Lots of stores, lots of parasols, and he turns around the corner with no specific direction, relying on the setting sun to inform him of the time.

He's not a child. 

It isn’t the first time Younghyun’s left him to do stuff like this.

It started around four years ago, when the older was seventeen and Dowoon was fourteen, turning fifteen. The boy was waiting for him in their rented room for a good half-a-night until he was jolted awake by the sound of a sudden door creaking like a ghost. 

He was half-asleep, eyes groggy, and rubbing at them as he looked at the youth closing the door. Not noticing the odd expression on his face. Nor the slight dampness of his skin.

He asked him why he was out so late, asking him sleepily in usual mumbles and whispers, and Younghyun answered with the sound of a bag of coins dropping on wood.

"Someone offered me a quick job," he said and quietly moved to the corner to grab a piece of cloth hanging on the wooden chair. "Paid more than the construction work back in Eden. One silver." 

Dowoon blinked at Younghyun as the youth adjusted his trousers, a mixed expression painted on his face. They had never gotten that much money from just a single job before. What exactly did he do? 

Younghyun turned to him in response, a pained smile on his face. 

"Nothing you have to concern yourself about," he replied, then said, "Don’t worry. I'll do all the work from now on." 

It was six months later when Dowoon finally learned what Younghyun had been doing, and it lead to an hour of fighting, an hour of shouting, and Younghyun keeping silent. Dowoon had been so filled with age that he stomped out of the inn and walked under the winter snow with only a thin layer of clothing covering his skin. He ended up with a fever that night. Younghyun wouldn’t stop apologizing. 

Yet he wouldn’t stop doing it either. 

So Dowoon stopped arguing.

He directs his gaze to look at the sunset in the horizon, watching the entire town slowly drown under that orange, golden glow. Like honey pouring down the walls of the wooden city, until an hour later, when it would be embedded into the night. 

Dowoon holds onto the bag of copper coins and looks around the various shops lining the street. Cross Road Town is really a bustling one; it might as well serve to be the capital of the country. There are restaurants boasting of rare and expensive dishes; street performers making a ruckus with wooden horns and wild rhythms; women and men adorned in lavish clothing and speaking in an accent he cannot understand; and a variety of toys and trinkets and things displayed in various shops. 

They've been travelling for eight years now, yet each town and each city always brings something new. He speculates that even if he returns to every single place, they wouldn't look the same way as they've left them. _"The curse and blessing of travellers,"_ that bartender correctly stated: To see the world and every new thing yet none of them lasting for more than a moment. It's as if living everyday like a vivid dream: exciting, mesmerizing, enthralling, and hypnotizing. But as soon as you get pulled in, you're pulled immediately back out, and you're made to put on your shirt and trousers and move on with the new day. Perhaps you don't even remember any of the details anymore. But you do remember the feeling. 

As Dowoon passes by with his eyes lingering on an antique shop, he bumps into someone and almost sends them falling down, immediately holding onto them to prevent any mishap. When he comes to, he sees that it's an old beggar lady, with skin drooping like melted wax and hair so gray it looked stark white. Her hair is infested with lice, her teeth are painted gold, and she smells rather putrid, like she hasn't bathed for weeks. 

When she opens her mouth, a shaky pair of lips form a soft curve. 

"Thank you, young man," she says, voice creaky and soft, a little bit weak. "Your kindness is well appreciated."

Dowoon nods acknowledgingly and notices that the beggar lady is hauling a giant sack, looking heavy, despite having a bad leg. 

"Yes?" the beggar lady asks when she notices that Dowoon hasn't left; rather he seems to be following her around. "What's the matter, dear?" 

Dowoon mumbles something under his breath, but the beggar lady can't hear it, so he gestures vaguely, pulling an awkward figure. 

The beggar lady furrows her wrinkled face at the youth for a good few seconds until he mimics the action of hauling a sack of rice on his bag, and it's then that she understands. 

"Young man, you want to help me carry my treasures?" Dowoon nods enthusiastically. "Oh, but my home is a bit far from here. You might get tired." 

Dowoon shakes his head, and the beggar lady gives him a touched smile, placing a hand on her heart. 

"May you be blessed for a thousand generations, my boy," she says. "Come, then. Let's not dilly-dally." 

They arrive about an hour later, in a clearing on the outskirts of the town. It's a place filled with shrubs and a couple of trees, and looks to be absolutely deserted. Right in front of them is a tent made of cloth and held up with sticks. There’s nothing underneath but grass.

"Robbers wouldn't dare steal from a beggar," the beggar lady says, when she spots Dowoon's concerned expression. "A blessing in disguise, if I do say so myself."

Dowoon helps the beggar lady settle down amongst the grass and places her sack of things beside her, careful not to break anything. Though he isn't sure of what's inside. 

He's just about to bid his goodbye when the beggar lady puts a hand up and gives him a smile. 

"Now, now," she says, eyes looking fondly upon him. "You've helped this poor lady out of pure kindness. The least I can do is offer you one thing." 

She takes her sack of trinkets and opens it for Dowoon to see. 

"Normally, I would ask for one copper or one piece of bread in return," she says, "but you've given me more than I can ask for." 

It's filled with various trinkets ranging from rag dolls to broken plates, things like cindered keys and odd figurines and various things that don’t seem like treasures at all. 

"You can take your pick, young man," she says. "Take as many as you want. You may even take it all, if you wish. You've helped me more than anyone ever dared." 

Dowoon looks into the sack with a little curiosity, knowing it would be rude to refuse a gift. He’s thinking that if he truly did try to take everything that would be too much of him. Yet looking through everything and choosing one in a picky manner didn't seem that good either. In the end, he chooses the first thing he sees: a dirty old mirror, covered in muck and grime dried over the ages. 

"A wonderful choice, young man.” The beggar lady kindly smiles. "That was a mirror given to me, passed down from my great-grandmother. It's a family heirloom, and the only thing that I have left before our mansion burned down." 

Dowoon immediately returns it back in its sack. 

The beggar lady laughs and places the mirror back in his hands, saying, "Oh, don't be silly. It's yours now; take it as a gift from me. The memories of my life as a fair, noble lady have long gone, and I've no use for a mirror. Rather, I wouldn’t _dare_ use a mirror, with what I’ve become." 

Dowoon promptly looks into the face of that old beggar lady and finds, in small increments, the traces of a woman long forgotten over time. Her hair is gray, but she still ties it in the same way, though she's long moved on from keeping strays away from her face. Her lips are charred, and breaking, and crumpled with age, but they pull widely into a kind grin, despite the yellow teeth by which some would feel shame. And her face is covered with wrinkles, so much so that they seem more like leather than skin, but the folds crowd and gather around her eyes the most, telling him a tale of a million smiles.

Dowoon mumbles something under his breath, and the beggar lady is shocked and stunned, eyes widening at the youth bowing down and bidding goodbye. 

She watches as he walks on, carrying that mirror like it's a treasure, then finds herself laughing a little, repeating his words in her head

_"A mirror couldn’t even dare to try to imitate the beauty you hold."_

"What an odd young man," she comments, moving to close her sack of treasures. "May he and whoever he loves live a prosperous life for ten thousand generations." 

Younghyun paces around his room, biting on his finger as he stares into the darkness beyond the window, indicating the dead of the night. 

_Where on earth is he?_ he thinks as he keeps the floorboards creaking, the inn attendants below him getting a tad bit annoyed. _We ended up taking longer than usual, but that doesn't mean_ he _should take longer than usual, too..._

The last time Younghyun extended, Dowoon had kicked the door open, kicked the man out, and took all his money with it, not caring that he took more than Younghyun was promised. And just earlier, an attendant knocked on the door to deliver Younghyun's leftovers in a basket, and Younghyun had thought it was Dowoon about to barge in again. But that young lady insisted that they extend for longer and even said that she didn't mind having a third person in the room. And so Younghyun waited warily for an angry nineteen-year-old, but oddly, he never came. 

When that young lady finally had her fill--and generously gave Younghyun five silver for his service--Younghyun went down to the first floor to search where Dowoon was resting, expecting to see him either chatting with the bartender or asleep on the counter. But other than the few gentlemen talking about legends and flying serpents, there was no one there. Even the bartender seemed to have resigned for the night, leaving the cat to man the counter.

Younghyun had been so concerned that he didn't even think to question it and even asked the cat if it had seen his companion, only for it meow what he assumed to be a no. He wanted to search the town to see where Dowoon went off to, but if the youth decided to walk in when Younghyun walked out, he would be in a bigger predicament. 

And so Younghyun finds himself pacing in the middle of the room one hour after sundown, trying to tell himself that Dowoon is a capable boy, that he wouldn't get mugged, that he only has twenty copper coins--what kind of robber would steal twenty copper coins? The desperate ones, probably. 

But then, how many desperate robbers are there in Cross Road Town? The richer the rich, the poorer the poor; the Town of Eden had zero crime rate only because everyone was too poor to be of any real value to anyone. Perhaps, twenty copper was practically twenty gold in these people's minds. What if Dowoon contracts lice? Younghyun wouldn't stand for it. 

He's just about to throw himself out the inn and start calling out Dowoon's name like a madman when the door to their room suddenly unlocks with a _click!_ and in comes a curly-haired boy, looking like he had just come back from a casual potty break. 

Younghyun practically yanks him inside and slams the door shut. 

" _Where were you and why are you back so late_?" 

He cuts an intimidating figure as he places his hands on his hips and gives an expression that's absolutely livid, Dowoon blinking up at him as he is inadvertently plopped down on the bed. He mumbles his answer and sends Younghyun's eyebrow twitching. 

"I don't _care_ if both of those questions lead to the same answer. What were you--" He cuts himself off when he sees the item in Dowoon's hand. "What are you _doing_ with a _mirror_?" 

Dowoon mumble-answers.

"You got it from a _beggar lady_?" Younghyun practically screeches. "What were you doing with a _beggar lady_?" 

Dowoon makes a recount of exactly what he had been doing the past two hours: the bumping, the helping, the walking, and the giving. He ends it with how he thinks that the mirror he's holding now looks pretty, and that he'd want to clean it up if he could. 

Younghyun had three fingers pinching the bridge of his nose the entire time he listened. 

"So, you mean to tell me," he says, trying not to get _too_ angry, "that you spent _two_ hours with a _complete_ stranger, _completely_ disregarding your own safety, and decided to take one of their things, when you're not even sure where it _came_ from?" 

Dowoon says the beggar lady told him that it was a family heirloom. 

" _Not everything people say is true just because they say it is, you little--_ " Younghyun pauses for a moment, placing two open palms up in the air in front of him and controlling his emotions. He takes a deep breath, then speaks. "Dowoon. Dowoon-ah. How many times do I have to tell you to _not_ mingle too closely with strangers? You don't know what their intentions are! You can't just follow them wherever they go, not to mention the fact that she _led you to her home_ \--" 

Dowoon interrupts him with a mumble, and Younghyun pauses for a moment. Stops, actually. Then, sighs. 

"... Look," he says. "I know you're someone with an abnormal amount of compassion for other people, and it's something to be proud of. Really. But if it happens that you end up in a bad place, I--" 

Younghyun crosses his arms. Sighs, closes his eyes. Presses two fingers against his temple. 

"You can't end up in a bad place," he says, opening his eyes to stare at the pair staring back at him. "I won’t have it." 

Dowoon only continues to stare up at him, eyes so brown they almost look black. He's always had that innocent look to him. That sense of naivety that makes people think he's easy to fool. And he is; the boy is honestly a detriment to himself. But he's also extremely smart. Smart, intelligent, and wise. 

He mumbles his answer.

He says that the beggar lady isn't a bad person. That he can't tell if someone’s bad, but he can tell if someone’s good. He repeats that she’s not bad. He repeats that she’s good.

Younghyun stares quietly for a few moments, Dowoon's words spinning in his head. Then, in the end, he sighs and finally gives in. 

"Fine," he says, closing his eyes just a bit, arms still crossed. "But the next town we go to, you're not allowed to follow people. Not into their homes, nor anywhere for that matter. Understood?" 

Dowoon nods once, and Younghyun takes a seat next to him on the bed, pinching the boy on the cheek. He gestures for him to hand over the mirror and takes a good look at it:

It's covered in grime all over. So much dirt that you can't even see your own reflection. It's shaped into a heart, with swirling designs that twist and lead to the handle at the bottom. At the back are the words: _To my dearest Greta._ Which Younghyun assumes is the name of that beggar lady's great-grandmother, if that story is even true. Turning it back around, Younghyun can see that it truly was a beauty back in its day, though he isn't sure if Dowoon can restore it. He places it on the drawer next to the bed and speaks. 

"Since you've set your mind on cleaning it up, I guess I can't stop you." He turns back to face Dowoon. "We'll have to ask for a basin and some water from the attendant--" 

Younghyun catches sight of it. And promptly finds his entire world shattering. 

"Dowoon-ah," he says, voice grave. "How clean did that beggar lady look?" 

Dowoon furrows his eyebrows but answers anyway: Apparently, she didn’t look clean. She also didn’t seem to have taken a bath in weeks.

Younghyun promptly pulls Dowoon up and drags him out of the room. 

"No, I will not have this," he says, kicking the door and making Dowoon trip on the way down the stairs. "It can be anything but this. _Anything_ but this. 

"My Dowoon-ah's not getting lice! No, I won't have it!" 

Younghyun flops down on the bed as Dowoon sits on top of it, cross-legged as he continues to scrub that mirror clean with a soapy cloth. 

"Dowoon-ah, don't clean that thing on the bed. You're going to get the sheets wet," he says, an arm over his eyes as he feels the remainder of his lifetime seeping out of him. 

Dowoon doesn't answer and continues being disobedient. Younghyun sighs and just signs into his fate. 

It's a good thing that he immediately caught sight of that lice bug jumping around in Dowoon's hair, or else they could've had a major tragedy. After dumping the boy in the washroom and instructing him to keep scrubbing his head even if it felt like it was bleeding, he dashed on over to the nearest clinic and bought an ointment meant for getting rid of lice. It cost him all of what they just earned from the performance earlier, but Younghyun would rather be broke than sacrifice Dowoon's dignity and hygiene. The next time they go into town, he's going to keep a close eye on Dowoon, to make sure he doesn't run into any more beggars. Or anyone who doesn't take a bath. 

"Thank god that woman gave us five silver or we wouldn't have enough money to last for the next town," Younghyun thinks out loud, voice lowered to a mutter. "The next one is a city in the mountains, and if we hitchhike a caravan in a few days, maybe we could get there within one, but I don't think horses can get up there. The bartender said the pathways are incredibly steep…" 

Younghyun suddenly feels a tap on his arm, and he removes it, a question on his lips,

And finds himself faced with the reflection of his own face, blinking, surprised, frozen. Staring back at him inside a foreign frame. Standing right inside the center of the mirror.

The mirror is absolutely golden. Shining and gleaming against the light of the oil lamp, like it was made with actual gold. The swirling designs that Younghyun saw before were so intricate as if carved with the sharpest tool. Small rubies and emeralds dot parts of the mirror, in a symmetrical pattern telling of nobility. Younghyun finds himself mesmerized and entranced for a moment, moving to hold onto the handle and inadvertently Dowoon’s fingers, too. He sits himself up slowly and lets out a low whistle.

"Wow," he says, turning the mirror over several times. "I can't believe that beggar lady actually owned this. She didn't know what she had." 

Dowoon mumbles something, and Younghyun rolls his eyes. 

" _You_ believe that she used to be the young lady of a noble family, but I still think she made that up." He returns the mirror to Dowoon's hands and watches him run a light finger along the lines. "Still. It's beautiful. Do you think we should return it? She needs it better than we do. She could sell it and make a profit."

Dowoon shakes his head; he doesn't think she'd want it back. He says she looked happy letting go of it. 

Younghyun hums in acknowledgement, nodding his head a little, chin propped up on a knuckle. "Well, I see you've become attached. So, selling it for ourselves is out of the question." He grabs the bed sheets and motions for Dowoon to lie down next to him. "Come. It's getting late. Tomorrow’s the last day of that Travelling Merchant. Since we’ve got a bit of money now, we can buy that strawberry jam..." 

Dowoon immediately dumps that mirror on the side table and cozies up next to Younghyun, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall asleep in an instant. 

Younghyun laughs in an amused chuckle and places the blanket over him, making sure he's tight and snug. That his feet are properly tucked in so that the cold spring air can't seep in. 

Eventually, snores fill the room as Younghyun continues to stare down at Dowoon, lying on his side, chin propped up by a knuckle, a hand slightly stroking the youth's arm, assuring him into sleep. A soft smile finds its way up his lips--Dowoon still has the sleeping habit of clasping his hands with one another, as opposed to using them to prop his cheek up on the pillow. It’s as if he's pretending to be someone else, holding his hand while he sleeps. 

Looking at Dowoon right now, at the curve of his eyelashes, at the pink tint coloring his cheeks. At the soft breaths leaving his lips, at the tuft of hair that he knows to feel like water slipping past his fingertips. At the way he's leaning towards Younghyun, cozying up to him, like it's winter, and he's the fireplace. 

Looking at him right now sends a pulsating warmth spreading right across the center of his chest. It’s a feeling he doesn’t let himself indulge in, to regret and want to forget.

When did his feelings start to change? This, he doesn’t know the answer to. But at some point his friend no longer looked like a brother, and his love would send him to his wit’s end.

He knows that he can’t keep keeping him by his side, that he deserves someone more, someone better than he could ever be. That when he finds that someone, that would be the moment he’d leave. Leave and be assured he wouldn’t be left alone. To know that he and his loved one will live a prosperous life for thousands of generations and more. And not be there to see it. Because he knows he wouldn’t handle it. That the knowing is already enough, and that the here-being is more than he could ask for.

Someone turns off their lamp in the house next-door. A dog howls, winds take up, and the candlelight flickers, just a little bit. 

But sometimes.

Sometimes, he just sees himself. Standing in the middle of a giant field. Full of flowers. Full of trees. A cozy cottage on top of a hill. 

The sound of laughter reaches his ears. And he turns to see a couple of kids, one shorter, both of them chubby. Running towards him in an amateur race. 

He'd bend down and catch them in his arms, falling down on the grass and letting his laughter fly in the wind. Pinch their cheeks. Pinch their noses. Blow raspberries onto their bellies. 

And in the distance. Is a man. Looking at him with relaxed, crossed arms. A fond smile on his face. A red tint coloring his cheeks. Eyes smiling as the wind rustles his hair. His curly hair, that he knows flows like water between his fingertips. 

He'd be happy in that life. Happy to share happy moments with him. A happy life. A good life. 

A prosperous life with no worries.

But of course, that's just him dreaming. His reality is the boy below him, who deserves more than he can offer. That if there's anything he could give, it's just a push in the right direction. 

In this moment, all he can do--and all that he lets himself do--is run his fingers lightly through his hair, and watch the locks fall between his fingers. Like the memory of a boy fleeting. In a future where he won't be there anymore. Like a traveller wandering around. Living life in moments he can never relive. 

If he let himself have the choice, he'd lean down and place a kiss against those lips. Those lips he knows to be softer than you'd expect. Close his eyes, let his nose press against his cheek a little. Feel the warmth of his face against his. 

Instead, he sings him a lullaby. A lullaby for a boy deep in sleep. Though perhaps it's not for him at all. But for the boy still wide awake. After all, he wouldn't want him to hear it. It’s a song he doesn't dare sing.

_I found a thousand years of living short-lived_

_A_ _nd found a thousand reasons to fade away_

_B_ _ut there's a hand held upon my heart_

_And he beckons me to stay_

He doesn't hear the second voice lightly humming according to his melody. And he doesn't see the light that illuminates a certain gold treasure, illuminating it just briefly. 

A man turns around abruptly, as if hearing someone calling his name. He's standing in the center of a wide palace hall, made of white marble, lined with diamonds. Standing just in front of an open balcony, letting the moonlight cast a white glow.

Another man stands to the side, clad in armor, a neutral expression on his face. 

"What is it, Your Highness?" he asks, eyes lowered, hair shaved short, a cut on his eyebrow. 

The man looks into the distance. White robes billowing. Diamonds glistening under the light of the moon. 

"I hear him…" he says, placing a hand on his heart. "He will search for him for sure." 

"What are your orders?" the armored man asks, head held down low. 

The robed man puts down his hand. 

"Protect him. At all costs." 

The armored man nods and leaves the room, leaving the robed man staring up at the moon in the sky. 

He basks in the moonlight, setting his entire person aglow. A somber expression forms on his face. 

"Spare him. Please," he says, to the moon, to the night. "Let him be safe." 

He closes his eyes, and a pair of tears stream down his face. Drip down his chin. Pulled by gravity. 

Dropping down to the floor. As two, solid diamonds. 

The moonlight envelops him whole, and the robed man disappears. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi :D
> 
> this little f/cker is a new briwoon au that i came up with on a whim after rewatching barbie and the diamond castle and that which i have now fallen into without hope of ever escaping. it's got magic and it's got serpents and it's got two idiots being stupidly not in love and guess what: it's a Slowwww Burnnnnn~~~~
> 
> i think this is the first time i've written a slow burn. i think this is a slow burn anyways
> 
> in any case, ive basically clamped onto this fic because it fit EXACTLY with one of the prompts for [briwoonweek](https://twitter.com/briwoonweek), by which ive been trying to come up with something to make for each day. if you love briwoon, go on over and check it out!! it's mainly on twt, but if you dont have it, its held on other platforms too :D
> 
> in any case, im really excited for this fic since its a completely new flavor that ive always wanted to try out, but dont worry!! im also working on my other fics, mainly lens, so youll get your update soon!! i dont want to leave any fic with loose ends, so pray that i can do it 🙏
> 
> thank you reading this small thing of mine, and have a wonderful day!!
> 
> Writing Log Date 05/21/2020  
> \- what is that song playing in my head  
> \- update: it's shania twain's ["from this moment on"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-Lp2uC_1lg) lmaooo why????  
> \- let it be known that the robed man's tears turning into diamonds is inspired by this legend i watched on disney asia where this woman who cried tears of diamonds was imprisoned by a greedy man who wanted the diamonds for himself. who wouldve known that fanfiction would be the one to finally let me put that mind-blowing experience into good use  
> \- how did i end up putting prostitution in a barbie au  
> \- guess that's how it is in the inner workings of the human mind  
> \- the more i write and proofread this the more it becomes obvious where the writing style is inspired from  
> \- curse you xianxia, wuxia, and danmei  
> \- i would like to promote [tgcf](https://srtls.carrd.co/#tgcf), [2ha](https://srtls.carrd.co/#erha), [lsww](https://srtls.carrd.co/#lsww), and [nan chan](https://jade-rabbit.net/bl/nanchan/nanchan-synopsis/). only tgcf is sfw.  
> \- the entire process of writing this is a combination of my time with lens and wsly. lens: the sudden urge to Write This Exact Thing and throw down all other responsibilities just To Do It. and wsly: Ten Pages Worth Of Outlines.  
> \- i bid you adieu //dissipates
> 
> [briwoonweek](https://www.twitter.com/briwoonweek)  
> [carrd](https://rqyh.carrd.co/) for updates and info!!


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